


His Fault

by iiredgm



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Blood, Domestic Violence, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Sexual Harassment, OCD, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Past Child Abuse, Scars, Skeletons, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 23:24:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20938496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iiredgm/pseuds/iiredgm
Summary: - Underfell -Sans has been less than kind with his younger brother. One morning he is exceptionally moody.





	His Fault

**Author's Note:**

> so uh hi, this is my first fic here and obviously it has to be angst agdkshabsg
> 
> it's badly written, but i hope some of y'all angst-thirsty people will like it as much as i had fun writing it :D

Papyrus is in trouble.

He knows it, a little too well, but the emotionless expression of his brother is all too telling of it, too. His suspicions were confirmed also by the way Sans fell silent. His breathing stopped, his soul stopped beating, every inch of his body was silent and staring right at Papyrus, the taller one starting to get nervous under the attention.

The attention wasn't the only thing causing stress to fill his body from skull to toe, though, as the mere guess of what was going to happen next caused dread to shake his entire frame. This was not happening, not again, not after going so long without such an incident. Unfortunately for him, he was wrong. Sans was having one of his.. moods. Well, it was only to be expected.

Papyrus was at fault here, after all.

\---

It all started in the morning, Papyrus up and ready as always at six sharp, preparing a pot of spaghetti with meatballs that would serve as the brothers' breakfast and dinner, most likely for the day after too. Wasting food was forbidden, after all.

Papyrus moved with ease, the dish one he had prepared many times before. It wasn't all that hard of a recipe anyway, which only made it all the more easier. 

So why the fuck was he struggling so much?

The spaghetti wasn't cut precisely in half, and it wasn't like he could throw the food away and start over, as much as the thought itched in his skull, causing him to clench his jaw and endure the urge. It was more pathetic if anything, really, how much he craved perfection. He was willing to go to the ends of the world to achieve it, which seemed absurd to Sans. So, naturally, it was forbidden.

Normally he would shove the lingering thoughts away, bury them deep, deep down in his soul and force himself to focus on the task at hand, whatever it was. Whether he was cleaning and missed a spot, cooking and cutting something unevenly, training and missing his target by this much, he couldn't bring himself to finish the job the way he wanted to, in a perfect manner. It would make Sans angry. No one wanted that.

Now, however, the urges were getting to him, demanding they be heard as he continued to make sloppy mistakes similar to that one, adding salt before pepper, getting the temperature a degree off, stirring for three seconds longer than he should. Careless, messy mistakes that made him feel so fucking dirty and wrong and mad and unclean. He had to physically back away from the counter and take a second to regain himself so as not to spiral into a panic attack. No no, he couldn't do that again. It was forbidden.

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to travel to a happier, more neat place. Everything clean and even and smelled of flowers and freshness. His happy place, the only place he was able to be himself, allow his mind to roam free and correct the wrongs he was consistently creating. The one place Sans couldn't find him, no matter what. The one place he felt safe in. 

His phalanges slowly came to a halt from the slight shaking of theirs, the fidgeting with his scarf helping ever so much. He didn't want to open his eyes to a world so disgusting that he knew all too well he couldn't fix. He wanted to remain in his happy place, somehow transfer his consciousness there and remain forever. Alone and happy and finally, finally, clean. Well, maybe Undyne could be there too. He loved her dearly, even though her lack of one eye had always been slightly unsettling. Uneven. Whatever though, it wasn't like he could do anything to fix it. 

Papyrus slowly calmed down once more, his breath evening out as his eye sockets opened up to face the spaghetti boiling just a little too violently. Shit. He lunched forward as black smoke slapped him in the face, causing him the need to cough it out despite the clear lack of lungs. Needless to say the food was ruined.

"Fuck." He cursed himself for his carelessness. How long had he stayed like that, trying to ground himself to reality? It didn't feel long, those sparse visits he payed his happy place short enough as they were. He groaned as he started cleaning, the spaghetti obviously ruined. But he couldn't throw it away, could he? He had to. It was inedible. After a moment's hesitation, he settled on indeed pouring the food into the trash bin next to the fridge. The slightest hinge of satisfaction ran through him, knowing at least he wouldn't have to finish the uneven mess he had started. 

The minced meat was fine, sitting in a bowl and ready to be shaped into little balls. He figured he would have to make simply meatballs this time. He was quick to clean the pot, counter and stove top, more satisfaction running through his invisible veins at the sight of it all clean. How he liked this feeling, making his urges go away, even if temporarily. It was great. 

Before getting started on the new dish, he glanced at the clock on the wall and noted that he didn't have much time before he would have to leave for work. Relief washed over him at that, but it also meant that he would have to hurry. It also meant one last thing. 

"Sans! Wake up!" Papyrus called out from the doorway in the kitchen, hoping he wouldn't have to go up there and wake his brother up himself, the thought of entering Sans' room a terrifying one. He was only allowed in to wake the other, but that didn't mean he was comfortable in it. So, so much trash, mustard bottles, cigarette butts, unwashed clothing layed around Sans' room, hinting at his laziness and incapability to tidy up. Papyrus always had his worst attacks in that room. 

A groan escaped his bony lips as no reply came, not even the shifting of the floorboards audible, meaning that Sans had not woken up. No, it was silent. Papyrus knew what to look out for and the sound had all but engraved itself in his mind, immediately alerting his body to flee or fight at it. Thankfully and not, it didn't exist right now, meaning his brother was still asleep. Great. 

With a sigh and a cover of the bowl with meat using a towel, he made his way upstairs to the older's room, just the door enough to put him on edge. He knocked, softly, thrice. When no reply came, he knocked again three times, only louder. The groan from inside was all he needed to know Sans was awake. 

"Breakfast will be ready shortly." Papyrus informed, not waiting for an answer, before he returned to the kitchen and continued on his preparation. He had run a little late because of the incident, but he was hoping it wouldn't pose a problem. Still, it was forbidden, so he had to hurry up. 

Putting speed over precision, he continued his dish and was much more careful this time not to get distracted. He forced himself with all his might to ignore his mind, causing his jaw to clench so hard his teeth almost shattered. By the end of it, he had fiddled with his scarf at least four times, the fabric calming against his gloved phalanges. It was one of the few things that helped, aside from his happy place, and the least favourite scratching on his radius and ulna until he bled. It mostly happened during more serious attacks, though he preferred avoiding it if he could. It gave Sans an excuse to get in one of his moods and Papyrus certainly did not want that. 

"hey." A groggy voice startled Papyrus out of his thoughts, looking over at it to see his brother. He was standing in the living room, stretching his bones with a few pops before he plumped onto the couch with a soft thud. 

"Sans." Came the simple response, relieved his brother's tired gaze was not focused on him but rather on the television. Papyrus gave the clock another glance as he was setting the table and serving two plates, the bossy side of him taking over, "You don't have time for that, come eat." He worded the command carefully, not too demanding yet not too irrelevant either. 

Sans only grunted in annoyance before he slowly got up from his spot and headed to the kitchen. The slight glare he received from his younger brother made him turn around to turn the TV off too before sitting at the wooden table with a mere two chairs that rested in their kitchen. He was feeling exceptionally annoyed today for whatever reason, a particularly awful nightmare having woken him up at about 3am. Papyrus knew nothing of it and Sans wasn't about to go around announcing it. All they knew was that the older of the two was moody.

Then again, when was he not? 

Papyrus sat down across from his brother, his expression serious and unchanging. He focused on the food in front of him, silently appreciating the fact that he had it. Rations weren't the most common in the Underground in the first place, the King too lazy of a piece of shit to care about his people in the slightest. Many monsters had to turn to stealing or scavenging through garbage just to keep their magic levels high enough to barely function, let alone fill their bellies. The brothers had been so lucky, with Papyrus as the Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, their income was more than enough for food, meaning they rarely ever starved like they did when they had been younger. Well, at least that was the case for Sans. 

As if fate itself was playing a twisted game with Papyrus, Sans spoke up before either could begin eating. 

"what is that?" Papyrus' gaze was snapped away towards his brother, following his eyes to the trashcan. The burnt spaghetti from before was visible. Fuck. 

"Uh.. They burned. They were inedible." He managed to hide the tremble in his voice, any indication of fear a huge weakness he just couldn't allow himself to show. His eyes avoided Sans, returning to the food in front of him and suddenly his throat was too tight to accept it. He wanted to disappear, not daring to look at his older brother. He heard him stand up from his chair however, yet still, Papyrus refused to turn his head in the slightest, the meatballs apparently the most intriguing thing in the whole room. 

Sans approached his left side, knowing fully well that it was his bad one. Despite technically functioning, the eyelight just wasn't as steady as its counterpart due to the scar that run down it. Sans knew that, what with being the cause of it and all. 

Papyrus tensed up, part of him begging him to turn and face the threat, while the other was begging for him to start running and not look back. Instead, his body chose the third option in the "fight or flight" dilemma, freeze. And so there he was, gaze fixed on the meatballs, his body tense and still. 

"look at me." 

Oh god, he didn't want to. He really didn't want to, but it was a command and he'd be damned before he didn't follow one through. Slowly, he forced his head to the left, facing right into a glare of blank eye sockets before the world snapped into red for just a second, a deafening crack echoing throughout their empty and cold home. No, scratch that, house. This was not Papyrus' home. 

He soon felt his sharp cheekbone warm up from the slap as he clenched his jaw once more, his eyes looking everywhere but towards his abuser. His brother was sick in the head, but then again, everyone in their little fucked up hellhole was, so there was no meaning complaining about it. Even if he did, would something change? Of course not. No one cared. He shouldn't care, either, but his soul ached each time Sans got physical, each time his sockets emptied out and rage boiled inside the short skeleton, letting it freely all out towards his younger brother. 

It had always been like that, since they had been little. It started when Papyrus was.. four? Maybe five? He had fucked up bad, smashing a window while trying to figure out how bone attacks worked. Sans got mad, to say the least, mostly because their "father" had punished Sans instead of the one really at fault. Their father had been even more twisted and sick than Sans, not ashamed to admit that yes, he had harassed his oldest child in multiple ways, including sexual ones. Sans always took the bullet for Papyrus, and thankfully he had been spared of their father's wrath. That didn't mean that he had been safe of his brother's one, though. 

"what have i told you, papyrus?!" The words came out sharp, drowning in venom, as Papyrus' gloved wrist was engulfed in the other's bony palm. Papyrus resisted, pulling back suddenly only for him to fall backwards and onto his back, letting out a wheeze as his spine hit the freezing floor. He glared up at his older brother, trying his best to ignore the fear crawling down his entire body.

"Fuck off Sans! I was not about to feed us shit-" He went to stand back up, only for a red, black and gold sneaker to shove his skull back down. Papyrus immediately started panicking as soon as he realised that the filthy, dirty sole of Sans' shoe was right in his face. Germs. Dirt. Germsanddirtgermsanddirtgermsanddirt right in his face, right into his fucking face, right in-

He reacted out of instinct, giving the foot a hard shove which made Sans stumble backwards and fall back on his own, managing though not to hit the ground as he grasped the counter top next to him at the last second. A growl escaped from him, low and dangerous. How dare he talk back like that? 

Papyrus was too busy rubbing the side of his face that had been dirtied with such intensity, it almost seemed like the bone would slip right off. His mind was fogged with the need to wash, wash it away, water and soap his best friend right now. His breathing had gotten faster and his limps were shaking at the mere thought of how many germs must've decorated his skull. He made to stand up once more, the kitchen sink his destination, but as he basically crawled towards the direction of it, he was stopped by his brother's harsh slap once more. It didn't stop him for more than a few seconds though, the urges screaming at him to wash, wash it away, wash it all away. 

Sans gave another growl of annoyance as his younger brother stood up. "stay down!" He gave the shin in front of him a kick that made Papyrus kneel. Swiftly, Sans grabbed his brother's wrists and removed them from the left side of his face, the dirty part. A few scratches were visible, but not enough damage was done for marrow to spill out. Good. Sans wanted to be the cause of that. His brother needed a lesson. 

This was the moment Papyrus knew he was in trouble as he was watching his brother in front of him, holding onto his wrists with incredible force, fall silent and still, similar to how he had done himself before. Nervousness started filling him, as if the urge to wash wasn't big enough. He shouldn't have provoked his brother, he really shouldn't have, but he knew he was the one to blame here. Despite being aware of it, Sans was about to show him, too. 

Punishment was inevitable by this point. 

\---

"Brother, please-" Papyrus hated begging, despised it, but he had to if he had even the tiniest chance of getting out of this, "You don't have to do this, I-I'll behave!" He cringed physically at his stammer, his vertebrae sinking further down into his scarf. He was currently in the living room, on his knees, his hands tightly bound together by rope behind his back.

He was always torn between being so willing to listen to his brother yet at the same time not wanting to provoke him further, so instead he settled for something in the middle, following orders but begging throughout them. The more he did it however, the more it seemed like the cries for help were actually instigating Sans to continue. The day he would stop trying though was not anywhere in sight, so he had to have hope that it was doing the opposite, causing Sans guilt. It was doubtful, but it was all he had at the moment.

"Sans, please."

"shut UP!" Sans snapped, approaching the pathetic exhibit that was his younger brother. He had to admit, he didn't look quite pathetic yet, but he would by the end of this.

Papyrus clenched his jaw, and he clenched it hard, causing his teeth to hurt. It was a nice distraction from the urges in his mind scratching at his skull from the inside and the knowing of what will happen next.

"At least let me wash my face." He whispered, anything louder than that would anger his brother further. His request was replied to with a kick in the face, causing him to lean backwards but not quite enough to fall down again. Papyrus knew the rules, after all, but just maybe he needed a little reminder.

"rule number one," Sans started as he got closer to his younger brother, leaning down to catch his jaw in his hand, "no talking back. rule number two.."

Papyrus' eyes widened and fear caused his bones to rattle at the face that was now inches close to him, "no crying." This rule wasn't particularly hard to follow, though sometimes everything got just too much. "and rule number three?" He asked, waiting for his brother to finish.

A low murmur was all that was heard, before another wheeze followed soon after, Sans' fist having pounded Papyrus' chest.

"You're the Boss!" The taller skeleton repeated quickly, louder this time, his voice unsteady and his throat dry. His soul was pounding harder than it should and he could feel his eyes stinging with pain and fear and stress that was released in the form of liquid magic. Tears. Jesus fuck, his body was completely uncontrollable, wasn't it?

"what did i just say, paps?!" Sans scoffed in annoyance as he pulled back, his sneaker landing with a crunch on the other skeleton's femur. Papyrus let out a small scream as pain surged through him at the crack of his bone.

"I-I'm sorry-" He was cut off by another kick to the face, this time much harder than the last. It caused him to fall onto his side as he tried to curl in on himself while simultaneously crawling away with just his legs.

"sorry won't cut it! first ya waste food, then ya talk back and now yer cryin'? how many times have i told ya to behave?!" Sans basically screamed at him while he leaned down, placing a knee on his brother's chest, the other landing on his skull and forcing him to stay still. Papyrus' eyes were frantically looking around, now utterly helpless under his older brother. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't wash away the pain and dirt, he couldn't do anything but stare at Sans.

Simply beating him up wouldn't be enough, Sans thought. It wasn't the first time Papyrus had been so careless and utterly rude, and if he didn't take drastic measures, he was sure it wouldn't be the last. With a heavy sigh, he summoned a small, red bone with a sharpened tip in his free hand, his poker expression and empty eyesockets remaining as calm as can be.

Papyrus burrowed his bone-brows at the sight of the attack over him, but soon it turned into fear again at the realisation of what it was, "No.. Nonono wait, wait, brother, we can talk about this, we can- aaaaaAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

The shriek covered the crunching sound of bone being crushed and marrow being spilled as Sans impelled his hand down into his younger brother's already-scarred left socket. Papyrus squirmed with all his might, and Sans only managed to repeat the action twice more before he was bucked off as if he was riding a wild bull. Papyrus' screaming turned into loud groans and whimpers of pain as he shoved his face into the wooden floor, seeking comfort in its frozen feel, tears and marrow blending into one sickening pool of bright crimson. He moved his wrists wildly against the rope, cutting into them in an attempt to escape from his shackles and bring whatever comfort he could to his pained eye socket.

He tried to open the eye itself, but all he saw was red before everything turned black, his magic cutting off from it. Everything felt too much, his chest heaved with struggle as he took in continuous sharp gasps of breath which mixed with the cries which eventually slowly died down. Sans only watched the display before him before he moved up to his feet, taking a few steps towards the bleeding skeleton in front of him. He leaned down and whispered.

"you deserve this."

And the worst of it?

Papyrus knew he did.


End file.
